Page 22 of Branded

The examination room in Margaret’s firm is clinical and cold. White walls, medical equipment and an examination table with stirrups that make Lennox stop dead in the doorway.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“It’s an actual exam, Lennox.” I guide her inside, and Margaret and the doctor walk into the room and close the door with a soft click. “I thought we’d made that clear.”

“Good morning.” Margaret is in her signature black suit, and the doctor is in her scrubs and her hair pulled back in a tight bun that looks like it makes her head hurt. “Mrs. Drake, if you’ll please remove your clothing and put on this gown, Doctor Sagell can proceed with her examination.”

She holds out a paper gown, the kind that ties in the back and leaves everything accessible.

Lennox doesn’t move, doesn’t reach for the gown. Just stares at the examination table like it’s covered with cowshit.

“Lennox.” I move behind her, my hands on her shoulders, my lips near her ear. “It’s in the contract. Everyone has to go through it.”

“You want to watch?” Her voice is tight, barely controlled. “You want to watch her examine me?”

“Yes.” I turn her to face me, lifting her chin so she has to meet my eyes. “I want to watch Doctor Sagell verify that you’re mine. That you belong to me in every legal sense.”

A look of sheer venom passes over her face, before she exhales slowly through her nose and it vanishes.

God, she is magnificent.

“Fine.” She takes the gown from Margaret. “Turn around.”

“No.” I sit in the chair positioned beside the examination table. “I’m staying right here.”

She stares at me for a long moment, and I can see her flinging every curse word under the sun at me with her eyes.

She turns her back to me, and I resist the urge to laugh; stubborn and strong-headed is an understatement for my wife. The silk slides off her shoulders, revealing smooth skin and the black lace bra I watched her put on this morning.

Next come the jeans. She unbuttons them, slides the zipper down slowly, before she pushes them over her hips. The matching black lace panties, also chosen by me, leave almost nothing to the imagination.

My cock hardens.

Margaret waits patiently, her face expressionless, as Lennox removes her bra and panties, standing naked for a moment before wrapping the paper gown around herself.

But not before I’ve seen everything. The fingerprint bruises on her hips, darker now in the clinical lighting. The bite mark on her neck. Smaller marks on her breasts where I was rougher than intended.

“On the table, please,” Doctor Sagell says, patting the paper-covered surface.

Lennox sits on the edge, the gown shifting to show flashes of skin. She lies back, staring at the ceiling, her hands fisting at her sides.

“Feet in the stirrups, Mrs. Drake.”

I watch as Lennox positions herself, the gown falling open to expose her entirely from the waist down. Her thighs are still red, evidence of how hard I gripped her, held her open, kept her spread while I fucked her.

Doctor Sagell pulls on latex gloves with efficient snaps, then moves her stool between Lennox’s spread legs.

“External examination first,” the doctor says clinically, and I watch as she inspects Lennox’s pussy with the detachment of a mechanic checking a car. “Visible irritation on inner thighs consistent with forceful intercourse.” As the doctor speaks, Margaret writes frantically on a clipboard.

Lennox’s hands clench tighter. “Fuck that’s cold,” she says as the internal check is started. “You could at least warm that thing up a little bit.”

Doctor Sagell arches her brow but continues to check my wife over.

“Bite marks,” she continues, examining Lennox’s neck now. “Breaking the skin but not requiring sutures. Bruising on wrists, hips, breasts. All consistent with consummation as required by contract.”

“Congratulations, Mr. Drake. Your marriage has been properly consummated,” Margaret says as she makes notations on a tablet.

“No shit, you needed a fancy medical degree to tell you that?” Lennox snarls as she crosses her arms over herself.